Semper Fi
by Icky Wick
Summary: Sometimes being faithful starts with being true to yourself.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Neither NCIS nor its characters belong to me. This is written for fun, not for profit.

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It had been three weeks since his last movie reference, three weeks since his last prank, three weeks since his last civil conversation with his so-called team.

It had been three weeks since his Probie's arrest.

The Probester had been innocent; Tony would stake his life on it and hadn't been shy about saying so. When not even his own team would listen, though, that had hurt. "DiNozzo, the evidence is clear-cut; Abs triple-checked everything. Do you think I _want_ McGee to be guilty?" "Ooh, so you have a gut feeling now, Tony? Tell me why we should trust your gut over Gibbs'." "Tony DiNozzo! Are you trying to say I'd let Timmy get framed?"

And now that his MCR team along with McGee's former Cybercrimes team had been hustled into Director Vance's office, Tony DiNozzo felt reasonably sure he knew what would happen next. A quick wink from Paul Ostrowski in Cybercrimes confirmed his theory.

Sure enough, the toothpick man was already speaking, "…and thanks to the CCU's dogged perseverance and…unanticipated initiative," Tony made sure to stare blandly ahead, "Special Agent McGee has been cleared of all wrongdoing."

Tony allowed himself a whoop of joy at the news, then turned and glad-handed the computer geeks who all looked wiped but happy. From the corner of his eye he saw Gibbs and Ziva's backs stiffen in awkward syncopation.

"I plan on sending out an e-mail this afternoon to advise the entire office of this latest development, but considering your relationship to Agent McGee, I felt all of you deserved to be notified in person."

_How big of him._ Tony expected Gibbs to make some comment in that vein, but instead the former Marine merely gave a sharp nod. Tony would have loved to have seen the expression on Gibbs' face just so he could gauge what was going on in that man's mind, but since the younger man was standing well behind the rest of his so-called team and with McGee's computer ninjas, he was stuck with a rearview of Gibbs' bad haircut instead. Well, there had to be cameras in the director's office even if he couldn't see them, so he was reasonably sure his new bestest buddies in Cybercrimes would be willing to help him out later – if not for himself, then for the McBoss himself.

"Very well, unless you have any questions--"

"Ooh, I do," Tony interrupted in affectedly enthusiastic tones, his arm in the air until Vance's glacial gaze turned in his direction. "Has the Probie already been released, or--"

"He is being processed for release. And before you ask, arrangements have been made for Agent McGee to be picked up and returned home."

"If you'd've let us know, _sir_, any one of us would have picked him up." Tony waved his hand between himself and the members of the CCU, who were nodding and murmuring their assent. He carefully excluded his so-called teammates from the gesture; McGee wasn't in any state to deal with those two right now, much less their driving. He continued, "Since his last trip on the agency's dime ended with him being locked up in jail for crimes he didn't commit, I wouldn't think he'd be in a hurry to see the inside of another agency car. Who knows where his next agency-approved trip will take him?"

The Director's unflappable façade shifted, and now he looked constipated. "Any other questions?" he bit out.

Tony glanced over at the geeks, er, techs. They weren't making any waves (though they seemed to enjoy watching), so he would step up to the plate and be a man…_again_. "Well, I'm thinking that the time McGee was incarcerated will changed to paid administrative leave, only…see … since he was stuck in _jail _for 24/7, he should be paid for being on the job 24/7 as well. And since he was in jail through no fault of his own, McGee should probably get a few months of paid leave out of this. Prison changes a man."

The vaguely annoyed expression curdled into a sneer, as Vance "helpfully" began to explain, "All personnel matters are considered privileged information, so unless you suddenly have a law degree nobody knows about and are now Agent McGee's attorney or have been promoted into his direct supervisor and I have amnesia--"

"DiNozzo has a point, Leon," Gibbs unexpectedly interrupted. This was the first time Tony had heard his boss use those words in the past three weeks.

"We'll discuss this later," Vance countered. "Now if that is all--"

"Actually, that isn't all," Tony continued with his faux good humor.

"DiNozzo." Gibbs' warning lacked heat, and his voice cracked.

"No, bo--, _Agent_ Gibbs." He internally cursed at nearly sliding back into his former role. Just because McGee had been vindicated, that hadn't changed the last three weeks between Tony and the rest of the team. Tony took a breath and continued, his sunny mask probably not quite as convincing this time. "I had another question. Seeing as how certain NCIS employees and foreign operatives _who shall remain nameless_," he could not help but hiss that, "took it upon themselves to explain to McGee's sister how he was guilty beyond a doubt, I was wondering whether anyone's going to explain to Sarah McGee that NCIS got it wrong. We wouldn't want her to think her criminal brother busted himself out of jail, would we?"

"Agent DiNozzo, you've made your point," Vance snapped at the same time Gibbs promised, "I'll talk with her."

Tony didn't see any reason why he should acknowledge his supervisor or, God forbid, thank him; considering the role Gibbs and Ziva played in convincing Sarah McGee of her brother's guilt, unconvincing her was the very, very least either of them could do. So instead he confronted the Director. "I haven't even begun to make my point!" The agent then stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. "You know, I could stand here and quote from any of a dozen movies. I could make a big dramatic scene. Or I could smile and say, 'I told you so,' which I have to say is looking pretty tempting just about now. But why bother? This whole situation goes way past any of that, and if you didn't get it by now, you're never going to." He shook his head and moved away. "I am so out of here!"

"Agent DiNozzo, I haven't dismissed you!"

The Very Special Agent rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but a minute ago you wanted me to shut up and go away, so I'm just giving you your wish. Call me a slow learner." He flashed an insincere grin. "You can thank me later."

Anthony DiNozzo didn't wait for a response from either Vance or Gibbs. A few strides further, and he was out of the office entirely, slamming the door behind him. He ignored the open-mouthed secretary and continued his path through the reception area, down the steps, and to his desk. He also ignored the TAD du jour who was asking him whether they had a case.

Tony stooped to grab his pack, flung open his desk drawer, took his gun and holstered it, hesitated, then claimed his badge as well and shoved it into his pocket. He didn't have any time to lose. After all, someone would have to pick up the Probie once he told the official driver to shove it.

He glided over to the elevator and punched the button. As he waited, his cell phone chimed. "Right on cue." He looked at the text message and grinned, closed his cell phone, then walked into the suddenly open, and (thank God) empty, elevator. He turned towards the front of the elevator just in time to see Gibbs and David descending down the staircase into the bullpen. Tony pretended he didn't care and hadn't noticed their slumped shoulders and glittering eyes. He flashed a smile he didn't feel and gave a jaunty wave.

"Semper fi."


	2. Chapter 2

Tony DiNozzo snuck another glance at his Probie. Just like the last half-dozen times before, McGee faced the car's side window, supposedly watching the scenery go past. _Supposedly_. But Tony knew better, and it wasn't just because this was an uninspiring stretch of road. Even Gibbs or David couldn't miss the Probie's tense back and unmoving neck.

Tony scowled and turned back towards the windshield. He could think of those traitors _later_; his Probie needed him _now_.

"So how's the view?" DiNozzo asked with a lightheartedness he just did not feel.

"Better than walls and guards," was the terse response. Yes, Probie did have a point, even if DiNozzo didn't believe for a second that the younger agent had noticed much of anything outside the window. Still, the kid had been through a horrible ordeal, an ordeal that hadn't nearly ended yet, so if he wanted to fob Tony off, Tony was not going to press.

Before they could return to their previous silence, however, Tim mumbled, "But you would know that, wouldn't you?"

Tony winced. "Yeah, sorta, but it's not like--" He trailed off. Yes, Tony had been in jail, but there the similarities between their situations ended. Tony had been incarcerated for considerably less than three weeks (although it had felt much, _much_ longer), and even through his despair he knew that his team believed in him and was working to prove his innocence. By contrast, once Tim had been fingered for treason, Gibbs et als had been all too ready to abandon the Probester to his so-called fate.

So while Tony DiNozzo maybe wasn't the most sensitive guy around, he still knew better than to rub salt into his Probie's wounds. That's why Tony remained silent.

He hadn't counted on his Probie's persistence, however. "You still thought you weren't getting out," McGee insisted.

In other circumstances, Tony would have either deflected this with a joke or outright denied it. This time was different, and the Senior Agent felt the other man was entitled to the truth. "Yeah."

Silence descended once more.

Finally the Senior Agent nudged his traffic blinker. "Almost there." DiNozzo turned off onto the side road, slowed, drove further, then parked in McGee's accustomed spot. That was something else they would have to do, get McGee's car out of impound, but they could handle that tomorrow, they would have to handle it tomorrow, for they had already dealt with enough nonsense today.

He'd scanned the area upon approach, but it was McGee who articulated what they were both thinking. "At least _they're _not here," McGee muttered in a bitter voice. DiNozzo blinked. Even though the kid was entitled to some resentment, all things considered, nonetheless Tony still wasn't used to hearing that tone from his partner.

"Yeah, well I told Vance to keep them busy," Tony remarked as they both dislodged their seatbelts and emerged from the vehicle.

For just a moment, McGee's jaw went slack. Then the kid asked, "Since when does Vance listen to _you_?"

That was a fair enough question, given the Toothpick Man's blatant dislike for DiNozzo. "Since Vance wants to get on your good side again, that's when."

McGee snorted but without any amusement. "As if that's going to happen."

They were inside and headed towards the stairs by now. "Aw, where's your sense of fun?" He pat the other man on the shoulder and frowned as McGee flinched away from the contact. For not the first time that day, DiNozzo found himself wondering just what they'd done to his Probie in that jail cell.

Tony took a breath and braced up his feigned levity. "C'mon, this is your opportunity for a little payback here. Dangle the hope that you'll return, have him dance to your tune…let the groveling begin!"

"The only payback I want involves punishing the people who stuck me in that jail."

DiNozzo paused. "There is that," he conceded lightly, "and if there is any justice left in this world, that will happen someday, hopefully while we're both still alive and kicking. But while you've got your sights set on the end goal, there's nothing saying you can't have some fun with them in the here and now."

God help him, but the Probester actually seemed to be considering this. Either that, or the climb up the stairs winded him – which, given three weeks in a jail cell, was entirely a possibility; McGee's conditioning wasn't so hot even before his hiatus. Whatever it was, this unnatural quiet was something else Tony resented their betrayers for.

Tony shrugged. "Well, there's nothing saying you've got to make a decision today or even this week."

No comment.

They slowed as they approached Tim's door. Tony frowned. The dented front door still had three or four layers of yellow "Police Line" tape on it. The newly-installed padlock also spoke of an apartment formerly under police custody. _Formerly._ Now Tim was back and could reclaim his home and resume his life.

The Senior Agent reached into his suit pocket and withdrew the brassy key he had taken with him from headquarters, then twisted it into the lock. He gave an oblique glance at his silent partner. While McGee still didn't look relaxed, he at least seemed slightly less tense. Teeth flashing, DiNozzo pushed the door open with a flourish as he proclaimed, "Here we go, Probie! Home sweet—_son-of-a…!_"

For once Tony was speechless. The apartment wasn't just trashed, it wasn't merely _really trashed_…it was…it was…well, Tony didn't know what it was. One thing he was sure of, though, was that a thorough ransacking would only improve the apartment's appearance.

McGee remained preternaturally still. Tony could understand the reaction. There's nothing like coming home, only to find all your belongings destroyed and in bits on the floor. Tony rifled through his mind for appropriate things to say, but he had never stocked up on commiserative platitudes. "Geez, Tim, I'm sorry, I…"

But if words failed him again, the same could not be said of McGee, who now began to mutter, then shout, strings of profanity. Once more DiNozzo found himself at a loss. Never, _never_, had his usually composed colleague lost his cool so completely. And for Timothy McGee, the McBoy Scout himself, to be _cursing_?! Under other circumstances, Tony would have been laughing and fumbling with his cell phone to record this event for posterity. There was nothing remotely funny about this now.

Tony winced at a particularly lurid epithet. "I didn't know you knew what that meant," slid out of the older agent's mouth before he could censor himself. Tim did not look in the state to tolerate any jokes just now, and pain could be the result. The Probie might look like a creampuff, but if McStaypuft connected with a punch (admittedly a big if), it would hurt.

Both thankfully and worryingly, McGee seemed too caught up in the ruins of his belongings for him to take exception to Tony's unintentional barb. In addition to being worried, Tony was unnerved by the length and depth of the meltdown. It went far beyond Tony's expectations. Nonetheless, McGee's distracted state of mind allowed Tony to hit number eight on his speed dial and at the same time to make use of a less familiar function on his cell phone.

A familiar irritated voice answered on the second ring. "_What_, DiNozzo?"

"Leon, we've got a problem." Tony felt moderately proud of his Tom Hanks impression…

…which apparently was not recognized or appreciated. "_What?!_" the Director demanded again. _Oh well, not everyone was a connoisseur of film._ Before DiNozzo could explain the purpose of his call, McGee reached a shrill stretch of invective. "Wait, is that McGee?" Vance wanted to know.

"Yeah. We're at his apartment," Tony offered. He waited for the director to connect the dots.

The man did. "Bad?"

"You could say that."

"What would _you_ say?"

"Let's see…" Tony had found the button to press on his cell phone to take a picture earlier, but only now had he managed to send it as an email to the Vance Man. "A picture's worth a thousand words, most of which McGee's in the process of spewing."

A pause. Tony could tell when Vance saw the picture by the sharp intake of breath. Tony took this as his cue to proceed. "I think whoever was here last should have to put humpty dumpty back together. It's not fair to stick this all on McGee."

"Yeah, and getting back at your boss has nothing to do with it," was Vance's skeptical response.

"Did I say that?" Tony wasn't even going to pretend he wouldn't get his kicks from imagining Gibbs and David setting the apartment to rights—though he hated to admit it, Vance wasn't that gullible. "Anyway, it's not like I even know which team had the honors of 'searching' Probie's apartment." This was actually true, at least for now, but it wouldn't be true later if DiNozzo got his wish. "Just give us an hour lead time before you send in the clowns, okay?"

Vance sighed again. "Fine." That was good enough for Tony, who then hung up.

By now the swearing had lessened to intermittent exclamations as McGee wandered around the ruined apartment. DiNozzo winced at a particularly loud crunch as Tim stepped into his bedroom. Then a loud thud could be heard, and the words ceased entirely.

"Probie, are you alright?" He paused. The lack of any response sufficed to propel Tony through the debris into the bedroom. Tim was seated on the floor, debris and all, with his back against the closet door, his head in his hands. The younger man was shaking silently, and then the sobs started.

Tony swallowed. He was at a loss on what to say or do. Angry McGee was hinky, but he could work with that, even if it meant hiding and keeping his mouth shut; despondent McGee, not so much. DiNozzo squatted down in front of his Probie, wincing slightly at the strain on his knee, then laid the palms of his hands on each shoulder. Once again the Probie flinched from the contact, but he showed no other sign of having noticed Tony's arrival. Tony grappled with fleeting words of comfort, words he knew would be in vain, but it was Tim who raised his tear-streaked face and spoke, albeit only intermittently and between sobs.

"That…that was my grandpa's typewriter. The albums…belonged to my…my Dad and Uncle Tim. My mom and…and S-Sarah," he choked on the latter's name, "helped me pick out the furniture and…and the furnishings. This was my life! And now there is nothing, it is all broken and destroyed…just like…just like--"

Tony didn't like where this was going. Suddenly he found himself talking words he had not actively thought out. "Hey, listen to me, Probie." He shook the other man by the shoulders as he emphasized, "This isn't your life. This _isn't _your life. Got it? These are just belongings, _things_." The majority of Tim's belongings weren't even all that nice, but even Tony knew better than to make that particular comment just now.

DiNozzo continued, "Was it wrong that your things were destroyed? Yeah sure, you betcha. Should the people who did this pay? Definitamundo, and I'll help you collect. But at the end of the day, you still are _you_, you have your _life_ ahead of you, no matter what they took from you – and what they tried to take from you and _failed_." A wolfish grin touched his lips as he proclaimed, "They'll get theirs; we'll both make sure of it." An answering smile almost, _almost_, touched Tim's lips. "And you know what? The same people who stuck by you throughout will still be there to help you get your feet under you again."

"That's pretty much just you," McGee's broken voice proclaimed.

DiNozzo winced at the raw hurt of the assertion, so he offered a more lighthearted, "Au contraire, mon frère!" He began to tick off on his fingers. "One—well alright, there is yours truly, of course. But I'm not your only supporter. There are others. Number two's the autopsy gremlin."

"Wait, Palmer?"

"Believe it or not, yes. He even stood up for you in front of Gibbs and David. They really had it out, and though the gremlin looked like he was gonna wet his pants, he still stood firm."

"I wish I could've seen that," McGee murmured.

"You can! I've got the internal surveillance recording—thanks to Ostrowski." In fact, a copy of it was cued up on his home computer right now.

"Really?" Though still downcast, Tim's eyes brightened slightly at that prospect.

"Really. And that brings me three through," he hesitated, then retrieved his high school math, "through 'n': Ostrowski and his crew. Their faith in you never wavered. Well, you know that already. They were the ones that proved your innocence."

"Huh. I didn't know _that_. The warden and guards weren't exactly forthcoming on why I was being released. And all Paul would say during his visits was that he was working on it, not what he was doing."

Tony tamped down his frustration at the worthless officials who only knew what Vance had told them, and instead concentrated on Probie's second comment. "He probably didn't want to get your hopes up. Paul's just that kind of guy."

Suspicious green eyes turned upon Tony. "How would _you_ know Paul?"

That was another good question, DiNozzo acknowledged. After McGee's stint in Cybercrimes, Tony had been only too happy to mock the geeks Tim shared an occasional lunch with. "There's a saying you might have heard about, something along the lines of war making strange bedfellows." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively; nothing like some innuendo to lighten the mood. He stopped mid-waggle when he realized what exactly he was implying. Tony hurriedly clarified, "Not that we ever--"

"Right," McGee answered, but Tony could have sworn he saw the hint of amusement in his friend's expression. For that alone, the Very Special Agent was glad he misspoke…even if there was no way at all he was doing the horizontal limbo with any guy.

DiNozzo's eyes swept around the destroyed room. "Unless there's anything you'd like to bring with you," here Tim snorted, "let me take some pictures before we vamoose." This meant doubling back to the car for his camera – his cellular just would not do – but having photographic evidence of the apartment's destruction was more than worth the slight inconvenience.

"But why—oh!" the Probie's eyes widened with comprehension.

"I meant what I said. We're going to make them pay, and this is the first step." It was the first step, but Probie willing, Tony would be with him every step of the way.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hi! Thank you for your kind comments. They're very much appreciated. :)

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Disclaimer: NCIS, the show and its characters are not my intellectual property. I neither receive nor seek any recompense for this or any other fanfiction attempt.

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Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo had spent his years with NCIS learning Code Gibbs. However, no matter how versed he became in Gibbs' rules and quirks – not to mention all the NCIS directors' rules and quirks - this didn't mean that Tony didn't have a few rules of his own. Foremost of all his rules, the axiom which superseded every other rule and corollary, was DiNozzo Rule No. 1: anticipate, _anticipate_, **anticipate.**

DiNozzo used his own rule to its utmost today.

It started with the burn phones and pre-paid credit cards hidden throughout his car and on his person. After being unjustly accused of murder three times, Tony had noticed a definite trend and figured that if it continued, eventually his team would stop believing in him, and so he had best prepare for that eventuality. Well, he had been correct, his team _had _stopped believing in him; only it had taken a disagreement about Tim, and not another murder rap, for this to happen. Although events may not have shaken out exactly as Tony had anticipated, the fact that Tony _had _anticipated had made him prepared to deal with current exigencies.

So while Probie culled through his few intact belongings for the items and toiletries he needed over the short term, Tony had been able to place some untraceable calls, all through different phones: one to Steve, an attorney friend from his Baltimore days; another to Rob, a doctor friend Brad had introduced him to during their college football viewing parties; one to Richie, a frat brother in the livery/car rental business; and another to Larry, a frat brother who was a talent agent. Maybe Tony had never been a Marine or a Mossad operative, maybe he _didn't _have a net of international informants, but he was okay with that; he still had more than his share of contacts – many more than Gibbs or David realized - and these contacts were local, immediately accessible, and friends loyal to him personally…all of which suited DiNozzo's, and therefore Tim's, needs perfectly.

But the anticipation did not end there. Tony had worked long enough with the MCRT in order for him to deduce with a fair degree of accuracy what his non-teammates would do in any given situation – or in _almost any_ situation, he amended; he certainly had not foreseen how they would all turn against the Probie! And because he could anticipate what the traitors Gibbs, David, or Sciuto would do, he could also anticipate the appropriate countermeasures he needed to take beforehand.

Hence Sciuto, using her forensics "magic," would not be able to determine that Tony had made all the above calls or link them together, since he had used a different burn phone for each. Admittedly he was counting on her to trace the one call he had made through his cell, which he'd made reservations at an upscale hotel. As an afterthought, Tony used another of his burn phones to place a different hotel reservation for two under the name of Tony DiNardo.

Nor would the Goth be able to tell that Tony had exchanged his car with one of Richie's during a quick drive through the closest cemetery, since there were no security cameras there, and his and the Probester's cells had remained behind and powered on inside his original vehicle. In a short time, a couple of Larry's unemployed actors with a passing resemblance to the agents – and with a proper appreciation of classic cars, upon Tony's assistance – would be taking Tony's car on a wide-flung tour of the Metro DC area before heading for the fancy hotel. And once Sciuto triumphantly located the second set of reservations, the ones under Tony DiNardo, she would not realize that Tony and Tim had no intention of staying at that hotel, either.

NCIS had no way of knowing that Tony and the McGeek were tooling about in a decidedly uncool ride (a Civic!); they had no idea where the two agents were going, much less what they were doing. Therefore no one from NCIS would interfere during the doctor's visit, as Tony sat white-fingered in the waiting room, fretting that Rob was spending an inordinately long time with Tim. No one would crack the digitalized medical records for the visit after the fact, for the doctor would only keep paper records, not digital, upon Tim's express request. Arrangements would be made for remittance in full by cash, which would leave no paper trail and diagnoses codes through their insurance carrier. Nor would NCIS have any idea about Tim's special after-hours, private appointment with Steve, where Tim handed over a copy of Rob's medical findings and questioned his new counsel regarding his legal recourse. Finally, they would not think to look for the two missing agents at Tony's favorite Baltimore dive from his BPD days, where they would be picking up a latish dinner to be consumed on the road.

No, by now Team Gibbs would have left Tim's apartment; either they managed to restore it to a semi-livable state (which Tony deemed improbable, at best, even though this was what McWishfulthinking probably hoped for), or they had just given up for the evening and would return again tomorrow. A jolt of vindictive glee surged through Tony at this prospect; they _should _have to spend day after day in drudgery, putting Tim's apartment to rights! (It was a shame they wouldn't be able to set Tim's life to rights nearly as easily!) But whatever the reason or rationale, Gibbs and crew were likely long gone from Tim's apartment and in the midst of their "search" for Tim and Tony despite Vance's presumably stern instructions to leave the other two agents alone. For even if Gibbs' gut pinged that this was a _very _bad idea (and it was), Tony was sure that Sorrowful Sciuto with her crocodile tears or Doubtful Ducky with his convenient humanism, would have found some way to rally Gibbs onwards. Tony's money was on Ducky; Sciuto was likely on thin ice for her flawed forensic findings of "guilt."

In fact, it was well likely that at this very moment, Gibbs with his buddy David's assistance were even now breaking and entering into the posh hotel suite, violating Tony and Tim's civil rights in an ill-conceived attempt to force acquiescence if not actual forgiveness from them, only to discover that the two lodgers were complete strangers, strangers decidedly unhappy with this intrusion. Tony could only imagine – and savor – everyone's assorted reactions! And if Gibbs and David managed to get through this with_out _getting charged with a crime and with_out _getting into trouble with Director Toothpick, then they would fritter away the rest of their night on the stakeout of an empty hotel room…only to have to return for the next day of work.

"What are you smiling about?" the Probie wanted to know.

There Tim was again, not quite himself (would he ever be?), but much closer to the Tim McGee Tony knew than the pale, silent shadow who followed him out of the prison. So Tony told him.

The Probilicious One flashed a muted grin in return.

No, neither of them was healed of their recent trials, but Tony didn't expect them to be. Some scars you just take with you and live with the best you can. They may each have been betrayed and damaged, Tony admittedly to a much lesser degree than his Probie, but they had never betrayed each other, and that was the foundation upon which they could commence their healing.

Semper fi.


End file.
